


taking up too much space in a hospital room

by whorerrible



Category: N/A - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hospitals, OC shit lmao, Sibling AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whorerrible/pseuds/whorerrible
Summary: Evangeline McConnell gets herself in a good deal of trouble, because she’s a little bit unstable. Just a little.





	taking up too much space in a hospital room

**Author's Note:**

> Devon & Dana don’t belong to me! They belong to a few friends that I don’t think have A03 acc’s so I can’t properly credit them haksbsjs. Anyways, since this is my first post here it’d be cool to get some feedback on it. Happy reading y’all

The Sunday night was warm, but Eva? Eva was cold. Freezing, in fact, in the minimum amount of clothing she felt right wearing (her plain black tank top and shorts underwhelmed her, really, but it’s the most she could take away from her body without feeling exposed), standing on the metal of her scale. She awaited the number, anxiously. 

“_ _ _ ,” said the scale.

“Hurry up,” prayed Eva, silently.

Finally, a reply:

 

86.5? That couldn’t be right.

 

Evangeline could almost cry. This was her life, this was everything to her. And she, despite this, wasn’t ready to accept that she had done it. Maybe she didn’t think she deserved it, not yet, but still she wanted to enjoy this for once. She just wanted to relish in this, just for now. Soak in an ultimate goal met, let it sink in her thin skin, let it course through her bluish veins. She could see it happen, even— she could see her veins, she could see the success. The power. The finality of her control. Tomorrow, she thought, she would be confident. She would be radiant. Because tomorrow, if even for one day, she would be who she felt she had always been under layers and layers of pounds she had never needed. 

That morning she awoke heavily, with the film of dreams over her eyes for most her morning routine. She tasted the mint of her toothpaste, she felt the summer air on her face, she saw the clothes she draped on her body that made her feel beautiful, and yet, she did not. It was all far off, and even more far off were any emotion but her absolute elation. Her brother seemed apathetic, with his frame almost rivaling her’s in delicateness he seemed to pay it no mind. That was alright, though, maybe that was even preferred. Certainly preferred to the frown on her step mother’s kind face, the concerned crinkle of her soft eyes. Preferred to her mother’s own concerned glance in her direction as she walked out the door, water bottle clutched in her hands and backpack weighing down so heavily she could feel herself tipping forward as she clambered into her car. 

 

Devon was there, of course, as he usually was. He always waited on her. Because he had no other choice, mostly. He couldn’t drive because he was reckless, and tolerated Eva because she was older and slightly less reckless. 

“Sorry. Tired today, I guess,” she heard herself say. It sounded pleasant now, with the film of a triumph meshing over her words. 

“It’s not a problem.” Devon sounded the way he always did: flat. The flatness never seemed to bother Eva, though. It was soothing in a way; the distant quality of his voice made her calm. Her already painfully slow heart rate would relax. Maybe its familiarity, maybe it’s a lack of worry about reading emotions, but Evangeline finds it pleasant to talk to her brother on their car rides. 

Even if they didn’t say much to each other during the mildly short ride, Eva thought it was pleasant even still. “That’s likely what made it tolerable,” she thought as she drove. Her hands were trembling slightly, but that wasn’t new and it was so common that Eva found ways to work around it. 

As she pulled up to the school, Eva felt like she was in a dream, the same polish of unreality of the morning spreading farther out to the day. She took a moment to look at the clock. 7:38. Okay. She nodded to herself, casted a half-glance to Devon (who was already opening the passenger side door), before she jerked open her own door and stepped out. Her backpack still felt heavy, still made her tip forward slightly. The wall from the parking lot to the actual school building felt like a trek through the desert, and all Eva could make herself do for a few moments was blankly stare, the dread of moving again washing over her. Now she felt the exhaustion set in. All she wanted to do is sleep, really. Or maybe not even sleep. Eva more so wanted to just not move anymore. Her bones ached, every muscle she had seemed to be falling apart, and it seemed to her the only thing left of her person was her mind. 

But that was the point, wasn’t it? The point had been to leave nothing left, and so she had nothing else to lose and had lost everything through her own accord. And on top of this, she liked that now she could have the feeling of really changing something that mattered to her. 

“Are.” Her head snapped up, and she found herself being stared down by her brother. Ah, she thought he had walked away already, “Are you okay.” 

“I really appreciate the concern, Devon, but I’m fine. Told you I was tired.” Her voice seemed to have a more rasped quality than usual, which irked her, but she could deal with her voice sounding a bit fried. Now she decided to walk forward. Partially to dispel any worry Devon may have, partially because she knew if she did not right then, she would have never moved out of that spot. Pavement never felt so comfortable under one's feet until now, and Eva still felt like were it not for academic obligations she would just curl up and sleep. But she did, so she started off to the building with the clicking of her small chunky heel against the asphalt. 

 

Walking through the hall to her first period class was at the very least mildly harrowing. There were too many people too close together, and the proximity of people to her makes Eva’s head buzz. Not to say her head wasn’t already humming, but it certainly did not help the already misty feeling of her thoughts. But she made it, ‘click-click-click’ ing into her English class with a slight tip to her stride. 

Throughout the class was both easy and absolute torture. Eva just could not focus, not if she tried and certainly not with how apathetic she felt towards absorbing the knowledge she was supposed to be collecting. At last, though, the bell had rung, and that was her cue to painfully arise from her seat, sling her cement-weighted backpack on a shoulder, and again walk out into the hivelike halls. She tilted her chin up, glancing over taller people and mohawks to find the circle of her cheerleading friends she usually talked with and hovered around. 

And when she was there, she began to make conversation. Even though she knew she was saying words, coherent words if the way she believed people were responding was correct, the moment words moved past her lips she completely forgot them. It made it hard to keep a hold on the little feeling she had left.  
It also made it hard when she began feeling her vision blur. It started at the edges, black seeping into the color of the walls and tiles of the floor, swirling like an oil slick. She tried to pay it no mind, and on some level she was doing well. All she could think of was a number. 86.5. She didn’t feel her bowed legs give out under her. 

 

86.5.  
86.5.  
The power.  
The finality of her control.

 

The next time Eva could open her eyes, she was not at school. Not in the hall. Not at home. She was in a room, white walled and blue tiled. It smelled of sanitation. She turned her head (now shockingly difficult), and noticed her arm, palm up, with a few different tubes and needles. Her stomach, too, had a tube snaking from it. Eva slowly pulled these pieces together, and made the final, horrid picture. 

She was in a hospital room.

She was so disappointed in herself.

There was a face sitting by her bedside. Blurred as it was, she recognized the pale face and high cheekbones and mess of blonde hair. Eva opened her mouth to speak, but it came out a croak and not much more, but it did alert Devon that she was actually awake. 

She noticed his eyebrows perked upwards. She noticed his hands were clasped together and sitting on the bed. It wasn’t a lot, but it was a lot more than typical of her brother. Again she tried to speak, and again she didn’t find that anything would leave her mouth other than a gravelly croak. Devon put his hand on her arm, so closely to the needle that Eva shuddered slightly. 

“Don’t. Talk.” His hand retracted as quickly as it had gotten there. She was always wondering why he had such a problem keeping his sentences flowing. It always seemed like he was agonizing over every word he said. Always thinking. She’s not sure how much it unsettles her now, but she didn’t get to think about it too much as she began drifting out of consciousness yet again. 

Over the few days, it felt like minutes. She was up for moments at a time, sentient and conscious for even less than that, and up to talking even less. A few people would drift through; her mothers, chatting anxiously and staying briefly, guiltily looking upon her in a way she despised but had no energy to comment on. Her brother, lanky and mildly snippy with her doctors, but far quieter around her. He would just sit, and stare, and she would lay, and stare back. 

And then there was the girl. 

The white hair at first gave Eva the fleeting thought it was her brother again, but it was neater and straighter, so it certainly couldn’t be him. It was harder to think, much harder, so it took longer for her to realize this blurry figure was far too short to be Devon.

Eva remembered who she was, and spent a long while wondering why she was here. 

But there she was, tugging at her long grey sleeves with nervous, chipped black-polished fingers. 

And she stood over Eva’s bed. Darted her eyes around, tugged her sleeve, occasionally muttered a “Ahh, fuck, what the fuck, man,” 

Her hand hovered over Eva’s.

Their fingertips touched, and Dana Calhoun backed away. Away, and away, until she was out of the door again. Again. Their relationship was tenuous, and from Evangeline knew about how she was in general, she didn’t blame Dana. She tried, didn’t she? Dana made an attempt to see her in her pitiful state, which is more than Eva would have thought she could handle. She had half a mind to remind herself to thank her when she got back. If she did, she corrects herself. Actively falling apart wasn’t something easy to recover from, and Eva was not confident in her own ability to pick up the pieces. With her own lack of confidence and general dread of her uncertain future, she again slept. 

 

The next time she awoke, Devon was there again, sitting in his usual chair and staring. Blankly, but Eva didn’t much pay mind to his absent gaze. Again, as she seems to do every time, she tried to say what has been on her mind for what she’s been told has been five days. And this time, Eva was able to say it:

“I’m sorry, Dev.” 

His brows furrowed, and he hung his head a bit, and Eva couldn’t discern whether he’s contemplative or angry. Either way, it made her shrink in her oversized hospital gown. After a moment of silence, he lifted his head. 

“I just don’t understand why. It hasn’t been anyone at school, has it.” 

The look he had was intense, and one Eva caught glimpses of through the many years of knowing Devon. She rested her head against her clinically clean pillow. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. 

 

“You know? It’s really fuckin’ stupid, actually—“ A snivel. She hated choking up, but she’d already been found out and was too tired to keep that suffering to herself anymore. “It’s no one at school— It’s just me. Always has been. I thought if...” She sighed, shakily. It was harder than she thought, to talk about this. That day was the only happy one she had for the past years, and her body failed her even then. She felt remorseful. Because she worried everyone, but also because she ruined what was supposed to be the best day of her life. Maybe the day after she would have felt miserable and hungry again, but she just wanted that one day.

“You thought.” Devon tilted his head. She had just now realized that she has trailed off, and again realized there were tears warming a curved line of her face. 

“I just thought I’d feel more. Right. That I wouldn’t feel like I was taking up too much space if I took up less.” 

Her forearm covered her face, body trembling as she cries. It was too hard to face this, to face Devon. To face the world. She took up too much space. 86.5. Too, too much.

All Devon could do was deepen the furrow of his brows. He knew, of course, that he should do something. Say something. This was his sister. But he couldn’t find a way to do it that didn’t feel the same as when he smiled at people he felt nothing for; superficial politeness wasn’t something he wanted to spoon feed to Eva, and he doubted she would let him. So, all he could do was look confused. He held his hand out over her, not sure whether to try and make contact with her. Something within him wasn’t able to connect with both his own needs and Eva’s own obvious distress, so he jerked his hand back and again looked. Observed. Watched her sob and sob, and slow and calm, and eventually retract her arm and blink away the tears caught on her lengthy lashes. 

 

Devon still seemed dumbstruck. He wasn’t sure what to do now, for certain. He opens his mouth, and closes it again, his thin fingers curling into his palm. 

Eva just laughed. Bitterly, perhaps, but it wasn’t directed at him. It was directed at herself, mostly, because she couldn’t believe she cried over something purely her own fault. 

“I’m so stupid.” Another quiet croak of her sorely underused voice. 

“You’re— you aren’t. You just did something dumb. There is a difference, believe it or not.” 

Eva laughed for the second time, but this time it was lighter. He was right, which made it funnier.

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”


End file.
